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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287162">It used to be so simple</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Fizzles/pseuds/Mr_Fizzles'>Mr_Fizzles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>simplicity is overrated [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Angst, Canon-Typical Worms, Fluff, Last chapter is set near the season 3 finale so thats the Tim we're dealing with here, M/M, Past Character Death, Pining, Rated T for TIM, Sad Ending, The Magnus Institutes infamous dress code, in the first five chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:40:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287162</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Fizzles/pseuds/Mr_Fizzles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Tim supported Martin's pining +1 time he didn't</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James &amp; Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>simplicity is overrated [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     “Oh, there he goes again,” Sasha sighed as Martin walked out of the kitchen with an extra cup of tea, making a beeline for the Head Archivists office, just like he did almost every day. “It’s kind of depressing,” she adds.</p><p> </p><p>     “Hey, I think its kind of cute. Y’know, in a hopeless romantic kind of way,” Tim grinned as Sasha lightly batted him on the arm with her current case file.</p><p> </p><p>     “Like you were any better with that police clerk last month”</p><p> </p><p>     Tim gasped as he placed his hand over his heart in mock outrage that is only undercut a bit by the way he was struggling to hold back a wide smile. “I will have you know that Officer Fletcher was an outlier and even then, I never resorted to repeated tea-based pining visits.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Because you’re just the king of charm definitely,” Sasha rolled her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>     “I am!”</p><p> </p><p>     “And you are full of wisdom in the ways of dating.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Exactly!”</p><p> </p><p>     “And you wouldn’t have any trouble, say, in giving out said wisdom to a friend in desperate need?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Of course n- “ a gasp, the lightbulb flicking on over Tim’s head was practically visible. “Sasha I’ve just had the best idea.”</p><p> </p><p>     “You don’t say.”</p><p> </p><p>     They both looked up as the office door clicked shut behind Martin, a tiny smile on his face as he carried his tea and a new stack of papers to his desk.</p><p> </p><p>     “The boss man isn’t going to know what hit him.”</p><p> </p><p>     Tim’s face of determination was priceless and although her resulting laughter earned them a glare and cranky reprimand from the boss in question, Sasha didn’t let it dampen her mood. Tim on a romantic mission was always something to behold and hopefully this would end up with a reduction of the tensions in this office. At the very least, this was going to be entertaining.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     “And wouldn’t you know it, her ex-boyfriend turns out to be a priest!” Sasha giggled as Tim finished the retelling of one of his recent adventures in the dating world. The three assistants had been at their favourite bar for a while now, long enough for Tim to start getting really detailed with his stories and for the others to find them way more amusing than normal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Anyway, enough about me. What about you Martin? See anyone you were interested in lately?” Tim was leaning halfway over the slightly sticky table and raising his eyebrows with what he most likely thought was a suave and conspiratorial air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “W-what? Me? Erm, no I don’t think so?” Martin had been taking a sip of his drink and had only barely avoided spilling it over himself at the unexpected question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Nobody? Not even perhaps a certain grumpy, elderly-on-the-inside, slightly pretentious, but overall somewhat endearing head archivist?” Tim’s eyebrow gestures had reached critical speed and Sasha was unsuccessfully trying to smother her giggling behind a raised hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Wha- Jon? I don’t- that is, even if I- What?” Martin spluttered for a moment before deciding to settle on “He isn’t elderly,” said with an air of defensiveness and finality, as if that would in any way dissuade his coworkers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Well only on the inside, and not in a bad way. More like a somewhat crochety old cat lady that volunteers at the local library for children’s reading corner,” Tim was momentarily distracted by the mental image he had created, before Sasha interrupted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Whatever kind of old lady Jon happens to be isn’t really the point anyway,” she swirled her drink and sent a pointed look at Martin over her glasses. “That wasn’t a denial Martin.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     Martin was quite possibly the brightest shade of red either of them had ever seen him. “Even if I did like Jon,” he held up a finger at Tim’s excited intake of breath and cut him off, “Which I’m not saying I do! Just, y’know, if I hypothetically did, it wouldn’t even matter. I mean, it’s not like he’d ever like me back,” he avoided the other’s eyes and gazed into his drink morosely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “What?” Tim blurted seemingly shocked, “Why wouldn’t he? You’re a great guy Martin, and the boss does have eyes,” Tim gave him an exaggerated once over as Sasha nodded rapidly in agreement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “That’s nice of you to say, but it doesn’t really matter if he only ever pays attention to me when I make a mistake in my work,” Martin said, the hopelessness practically leaking out of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “So, what I’m hearing is that we need to get the boss man to actually pay attention for once so he can notice what a catch you are,” Tim clapped his hands together and grinned, “Easy peasy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “You really think that’s a possibility?” Martin’s hopelessness seemed to have abated slightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Martin,” Tim leaned over again to place a hand on Martin’s shoulder, “I think its only a matter of time.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>     “Remind me again why I thought letting you help was a good idea?” Martin sat on his bed as Tim continued rifling through his closet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Because, Martin my dear friend, I am extremely good at helping. Aha!” He reached into the closet and pulled out soft, deep red jumper. “Why have I never seen this before? Put it on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     Martin rolled his eyes and pulled on the jumper while grumbling about bossy friends. It was a vee neck and was a bit snugger in the arms than most of his other clothes. He looked at himself in the mirror doubtfully, and frowned back towards Tim, who had reburied himself in the depths of the closet and was not paying attention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Ooh!” A sudden exclamation from the closet caused Martin’s frown to take a turn towards concerned. “Martin you’ve been holding out on me!” He grinned as he emerged from the closet clutching an armful of denim excitedly, “I didn’t know you owned anything that wasn’t slacks or corduroy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Oh, those are, er, well I’m not sure they’re work appropriate?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “It’s just jeans,” Tim scoffed as he pulled a pair from the pile, and then did a double take, “Are these skinny jeans?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Yes, they’re- um, I got them before I started working at the institute. I had- well I’d assumed they wouldn’t work what with the dress code we have? Skinny jeans aren’t exactly professional.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Well yeah, normally it’d be against dress code, but we work in the archives now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “What does that have to do with anything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Well as far as I can tell the dress code doesn’t apply to us anymore. I haven’t gotten one disapproving sigh from Elias over my ‘inappropriate attire’ since transferring,” Martin snorted at Tim’s impression of Elias “And it is not because I suddenly agree with him about the acceptable length of shorts, I can tell you that.” Tim launched into a lengthy retelling of all the various fashion statements he had gotten away with recently, including but not limited to: cut-off jean shorts, a flamingo print Hawaiian shirt, and a panda sweater complete with ears and paws, thankfully not all at once.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Alright, alright, I’ll wear the jeans,” Martin was laughing until he caught sight of Tim’s suddenly devious face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Now, about your jackets…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~~~~~~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     The next morning at the archives Tim grinned and leaned over to nudge Sasha as Martin sheepishly entered and hung up his coat. Sasha looked up and then back at Tim quickly with wide eyes. “I know you said miracle, but you did not specify skinny jeans!” she hissed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     Martin smiled shyly at the two of them as he walked to his desk. “So, I look ok?” they nodded vigorously, and his smile widened. He sat down and they all got to work while chatting about their respective weekends, with Martin slowly becoming more comfortable with his less formal outfit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     The Head Archivist office door remained shut all morning and Martin went to pick up takeout for the three assistants, having almost forgotten the reason for his outfit. He had been gone for nearly fifteen minutes when their boss emerged from his office holding a stack of papers that he was apparently trying to glare into making sense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “Sasha, Tim, I’d like you to follow up on these police reports,” he placed a portion of the stack down on the corner of Sasha’s desk, “unfortunately the statement giver did not leave contact information but they did leave a forwarding address so Martin-“ he finally looked up from grumbling towards his papers to see Martin’s empty desk. “Where on earth is Martin?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     At that moment Martin walked back in holding a large plastic bag. “Oh, sorry, I’d just gone out to grab lunch, did you need something?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     Jon turned to glare at Martin and opened his mouth, likely to say something vaguely passive aggressive about tardiness, before he took in Martin’s appearance, and seemingly short circuited. After a brief pause he came up with “Oh, just- erm, well,” he glanced back at his papers, “Statement follow up.” He dropped a small file on Martin’s desk and hurried back to his office, shutting the door quickly behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     Martin handed Tim the takeout bags and looked at the papers on his desk in confusion, “Was it something I said?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>      “So, what’s it like living in the archives so far?” Tim leaned across the breakroom table, handing Martin a pastry from the shop down the street. He had been on snack duty since Martin had returned, since Martin himself was no longer comfortable with leaving the institute.</p><p> </p><p>     “I mean, it could be worse, I guess? It is kind of weird being all by myself in here at night. It’s a bit, well,” Martin paused and glanced towards the door of the breakroom, “spooky.” He ignored Tim rolling his eyes at the caution around the word. It was hardly his fault that their boss had a vendetta against a perfectly accurate descriptor of their work environment. Speaking of their boss though- “I’m not usually alone for super long, Jon usually doesn’t go home until hours and hours after you guys.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Oooh, getting some quality time in with the boss, are we?” Tim waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously as Martin sighed.</p><p> </p><p>     “I wouldn’t say that. Actually, I managed to completely embarrass myself in front of Jon the other day…”</p><p> </p><p>     “Were you yelling at a worm again?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>     “Not this time no,” He strategically chose not to mention that he had in fact been caught doing just that multiple times now, “Its just, I thought everyone had gone home already so I was getting ready for bed, and I guess Jon was still here?” He hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>     “And?”</p><p> </p><p>     “And he saw me walking around the archives in my pants.” Martin mumbled quickly as his face once again tried to impersonate a tomato.</p><p> </p><p>     Tim coughed and nearly choked on his bite of muffin before managing to let out a semi-coherent “Oh dear.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Tim stop laughing it’s really not funny!” Martin gave in and let out a few chuckles as Tim finished struggling with his mouthful of muffin.</p><p> </p><p>     “I mean it kinda is but okay whatever. Anyway, this totally helps with your whole,” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Jon’s office, “situation.”</p><p> </p><p>     “What? How would I even- I mean it probably makes it worse, extreme unprofessionalism aside, I haven’t been able to look him in the eye since.”</p><p> </p><p>     “No, Martin listen. I’ve been doing research- Don’t laugh it’s basically my whole job I’m a research expert- and the science says that being in close proximity to someone, especially living together, for long periods of time, is pretty much guaranteed to <em>move things along</em> if you know what I mean. The boss has been practically living in his office for ages, and you’ve full on moved into the storage room so…”</p><p> </p><p>     “Ok maybe I’m not a ‘research expert’ like you but I’m pretty sure that’s not actual science.” Martin leaned back in his chair and regarded Tim amusedly over crossed arms.</p><p> </p><p>     “No, it totally is! Look I can even cite my sources, check it out.” He brought out his phone and tapped around for a moment before handing it to Martin with a smug grin.</p><p> </p><p>     “Tim. This is just a BuzzFeed article titled ‘How To Know If Your Roomie Is Into You’.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Research. Expert.” Tim punctuated his statement with flourishing hand gestures.</p><p> </p><p>     “Whatever.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am now removing my canon compliant tag because apparently we can't have nice things in this fandom *cue glaring at episode 162*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Set somewhere around episodes 39-40</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>     “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t need more cushions or anything? I could make tea?” Martin was fussing with the edge of Tim’s pillow as he spoke. He was fidgeting in the chair he had placed beside the bed and glancing at Tim without ever quite making eye contact.</p><p> </p><p>     “Martin, relax. I’m fine,” Tim sighed.</p><p> </p><p>     “Alright, but if you need anything-“</p><p> </p><p>     “Martin! Just, stop fussing over me okay? I’m alright, all I can do is rest and heal up according to the doctors. You don’t need to stick around for that.” Tim went to scrub his hand through his hair and winced as the movement pulled on the wounds in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>     “I’m sorry. I’ll just- I’ll just go then. See you later-“ Martin stammered as he began to stand up. Tim closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath to overcome the frustration about Martin’s coddling. Then he looked at Martin, actually looked, and took in the hand wringing and the hunch of his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>     “Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>     “I- W-what?” Martin flopped back into the chair as he looked at Tim in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>     “You’ve been hovering around me ever since they cleared me to leave quarantine and I know you were doing the same to Jon before that. Have you had any time to yourself yet? To- I don’t know- process all of this?” Tim peered at Martin, trying to convey sympathy and concern and whatever vibe those therapists on TV always projected to get people to open up.</p><p> </p><p>     “I don’t need- I’m fine. I mean it’s not like I actually got hurt, I just ran away.” Martin mumbled towards his feet as he ducked his head, avoiding Tim’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>     “Is that what this is about? Martin you know it’s not your fault-“</p><p> </p><p>     “But I could’ve helped, right? I knew Jon couldn’t run and I just- I just left you both behind.” Martin was finally properly looking at him, he looked angry, but it wasn’t directed towards Tim. He seemed absolutely furious with himself.</p><p> </p><p>     “Hey, Martin, slow down. You were scared, we were all scared, and you reacted perfectly reasonably. Even If you had stayed you probably just would’ve ended up worm food the same as us.” Martin didn’t seem to hear him.</p><p> </p><p>     “I just keep thinking about what they said, about her other victims. How they all ended up-“ Martin closed his eyes and shuddered before abandoning the thought, “You’re my <em>friend</em> and Jon is- you two could’ve-“</p><p> </p><p>     “But we didn’t.” Tim interrupted before Martin could work himself up any further.</p><p> </p><p>     “No.” Martin said softly, seeming to deflate slightly as the anger left his face.</p><p> </p><p>     “So as your friend I am telling you that it’s fine. I’m okay, you’re okay, Jon is presumably okay, not that you could tell by the constant grumbling,” Martin snorted as Tim rolled his eyes, “Anyway rehashing everything is depressing as hell. I want to hear more about your little heart to heart with the boss man.”</p><p> </p><p>     “You mean the one we had right before you busted in and started stripping?” A small smile was tugging at the corner of Martin’s mouth at the memory.</p><p> </p><p>    “Yes, that one.” Tim tilted his head and somehow managed to project an air of innocence and dignity in the face of his previous CO2 induced shenanigans.</p><p> </p><p>     “I mean, we just talked. Mostly I was just trying to make conversation to ignore the fact that I’d just stabbed my boss with a corkscrew.” Martin huffed a small laugh.</p><p> </p><p>     “But was it romantic? Did you talk about all of your <em>feelings</em>?” Cue more eyebrow gestures.</p><p> </p><p>     Martin rolled his eyes, “Given the worms, and imminent death, and <em>corkscrew stabbing</em>, no I wouldn’t call it romantic.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Ah but what’s a little corkscrew stabbing amongst friends,” Tim smirked.</p><p> </p><p>     “I mean-“</p><p> </p><p>     “Or more than friends.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Tim stop doing that with your eyebrows you’re going to reopen a wound.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fair warning, this is the end of the fluff chapters, the next chapter is going to contain all of the angst &gt;:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>set around the s3 finale</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     “Tim?” Martin pushed open the door to the breakroom, he had been looking for him everywhere in the institute. The small group was supposed to leave in a few hours and he just wanted to talk to him one last time. Just in case.</p><p> </p><p>     “Hey Martin.” Tim didn’t look up from his seat at the table hunched over yet another stack of statements about the circus. Martin wasn’t certain if it could be called research at this point, or just obsession. He wasn’t going to ask.</p><p> </p><p>     “I just, just wanted to check in with you? Before you go? I know this is really important to you-“</p><p> </p><p>     “It is.” Tim’s voice was flat as he spoke over Martin.</p><p> </p><p>     “Y-yeah so are you okay?” Martin leaned against the doorway awkwardly, unwilling to move further into the room.</p><p> </p><p>     “I’m fine.” He said, in the same emotionless and uninviting tone he had been speaking exclusively in for weeks- months, now.</p><p> </p><p>     “You’re not.” Martin snapped before he could stop himself. Tim slammed his current file shut as he finally met Martin’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>     “Okay then I’m not. Why the hell do you care?” Tim had raised his voice now and was outright glaring at him.</p><p> </p><p>     “W-what?” Martin cringed back slightly from Tim’s harsh tone; he hadn’t seen this much emotion from the man in ages.</p><p> </p><p>     “Don’t pretend like you’re actually just here to check on me. You’re here because you want me to tell you that <em>Jon</em> will get through this. Or you want to ask me to keep an eye out for <em>Jon</em>. It’s always about Jon, because why else would you want to talk to me?” Tim’s voice climbed in volume as he ranted, ending in a furious shout.</p><p> </p><p>     “Tim we’re <em>friends</em>-“ Martin stuttered.</p><p> </p><p>     “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Tim scoffed, “We’re great friends, right? Because friends always abandon you as soon as you aren’t the supportive perfect guy with no personal history or problems. Friends always completely drop each other as soon as they get even a little bit of attention from the guy they’ve been uselessly pining over for fucking years, right?” Tim snarled. Martin flinched back before straightening slightly.</p><p> </p><p>     “Tim, it wasn’t like that.” He said defensively.</p><p> </p><p>     “Really? Because it sure seemed like it.” Tim stood up and began stacking his files with much more force than was necessary.</p><p> </p><p>     “Tim-“</p><p> </p><p>     “I get it, Martin. I do. It was a one-sided friendship where I supported your thing with Jon, and we hung out sometimes and you didn’t want anything more than that. That was fine. I was willing to be that person for you because you’re a genuinely nice guy, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t be that person.” Tim had apparently run out of steam at this point as he looked away and gathered the files into his arms.</p><p> </p><p>     “I’m sorry.” Martin said softly.</p><p> </p><p>     “Yeah, I know.” Tim seemed to deflate slightly</p><p> </p><p>     “I just want you all to come back safe.” Martin ignored the break in his voice on the last word.</p><p> </p><p>     Tim breathed a brief, mirthless laugh that seemed to hurt on its way out. He shook his head. “None of us are safe, Martin. Not ever. How much shit have we seen? How many times has one of us almost been killed? Sasha fucking died, Martin, and we didn’t even notice. She was my best friend and I can’t even remember her goddamn face!” He drew in a shuddering breath and continued, “Do yourself a favour and stop deluding yourself that any of us is going to make it out of this alive, let alone okay.” He readjusted the papers in his grasp and moved to leave.</p><p> </p><p>     “So, what, I can’t even say goodbye to my friend before he goes off on a suicide mission? I can’t just hope for five minutes that everything is going to be okay? To pretend that maybe things could go back to the way they used to be?” Martin snapped desperately, stepping forward to block the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>     Tim let out another laugh, more bitter this time, and cold. “It used to be so fucking simple didn’t it? But that isn’t the world we live in anymore, and I don’t have time to deal with this.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Tim, wait, just-“</p><p> </p><p>     “Get out of my way Martin.” Martin looked at Tim, who’s face was once again stony, all emotion back behind a wall of anger, and he sighed. He moved aside and Tim swept past him without another word.</p><p> </p><p>     “…Goodbye.” Martin’s voice echoed towards Tim’s retreating figure. Silence, no response.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we all know what happened next :(</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments kudos etc are greatly appreciated, thanks for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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